The Visionary's Pawn
by impossigirl
Summary: Set before "A Good Man Goes to War". The Doctor gathers his debtors with the stature of a visionary in front of expendables, but when it comes time to collect his favors from a woman in which he owes his entire life to, he cannot help but stand on her doorstep and nervously rehearse his plea for help. His weapon, his Martha Jones.


The Doctor gathers his debtors with the stature of a visionary in front of expendables, but when it comes time to collect his favors from a woman in which he owes his entire life to, he cannot help but stand on her doorstep and nervously rehearse his plea for help. His weapon, his Martha Jones.

He rings the doorbell after his short contemplation. What a domesticated thing to do as a narrow-minded man who only envisioned asteroids and its armies and how it would all fall apart in his team's wake. All for a girl, all for a child. All for the taste of revenge on the back of his throat when he takes down anyone who dare burns him. He will engulf them in flames much higher than they can create with the capture of his best friend.

The door opens, and a petite Martha Jones twists off her lab coat before setting eyes on her visitor. She looks at the man blankly.

"Hello, and you are?"

Irritation soaks through her attempt at a decent introduction. She hasn't been the soft, beautifully naive girl he met on the moon for a long while.

"I need your help, Martha Jones."

Martha tosses her coat behind her and laughs. "You and the rest of the bloody world, mate."

The Doctor opens his mouth to speak, but pauses for a moment. She does not correct him on calling her by her maiden name. He focuses on her eyes, eyes that have seen everything and, consequently, lost everything. _Mickey. Tom Milligan. _She is always the soldier left standing while the whole world falls.

"Doctor!" A voice of a more willing soldier booms from his machine in a far off distance. Dorian proudly announces that he has found the exact coordinates of Demon's Run.

Jones' rough exterior softened as she immediately clutches on to her Doctor. "You died," she breathes into his tweed jacket.

He pulls her from his embrace only to look her in the eyes and smile. "I never die."

She instantly recognizes the sadness through his macabre attempt at forced happiness, the same subtle sadness that hid a darker side of him that had lost something important. She understood, though, how hard it is to love and to lose. She felt like she would always be the Doctor's last friend on earth, or depending on him - the Doctor's last pawn.

She clasps his hand into hers and pulls him inside. A coffee table displays parts of a gun dissembled for cleaning.

"Even though I've returned to hospital work, it's a hobby I can't quite kick," she laughs as she guides him to a seat.

"Martha, I don't have much time," he says solemnly. She realizes his mind has been focused on someone else the whole time. He does not even reflect on her, he's been looking through her blankly.

She picks up a mug resting next to a pile of bullets and sips slowly out of it.

"You have more time than anyone in the universe."

After a few moments of silence, Martha starts assembling the automatic weapon.  
>"One day, you'll lose the fight if you keep going on like this." She looks through the scope at the Doctor as she twists the last piece into place. "<em>Everyone<em> dies."

"You look much older than before, tired" She plays with the gun before continuing, "and so much younger at the same time. Less wise." She sets down her toy and crosses her legs.

"It's my friend, Martha. She's been kidnapped, she's pregnant, and scared. An army is surrounding her." The Doctor places his hand on Martha's, but the concern in his voice does not match the darkness in his features. "I need your help because you're the only person in the universe who I could trust to help me, even if you were on your own."

"You win a war, at the expense of honest lives. You are a hero, Doctor, but you're so intent on being a general who wins battles. Donna. Rose. All living happily every after, right? Did you know Captain Jack murdered his own grandson for the sake of the planet while you spent your free time charming a new girl to take as your toy? You've already gathered enough soldiers to die for you."

She kisses his trembling hand as he now looks at her with full attention, full conviction. "If they kidnapped her, they've done it to hurt you." Martha presses his hand over the stack of bullets. "Please be ready."

He snaps his hand slowly back, shaking his head. "You know I don't work like that."

She smiles sadly and loads the bullets into her gun. "But you do. You always do. One way or another."


End file.
